


Tea With Lily

by Anythingtoasted



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lily Evans first found out that her boyfriend and his imbecilic friends were animagi, she beat him furiously with a copy of ‘Witch Weekly’, waited for him to change back into a man (the stag’s eyes made her feel guilty) and then resumed beating him. Sat across from her in her kitchen, the woman pregnant, to boot, Remus felt as if the same fate were about to befall him.<br/>Remus moves in with Sirius after losing his flat. Remus/Sirius, post-hogwarts, marauders era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Remus and Sirius living together. this was mostly inspired by headcanons about Remus' life as a werewolf, and the inherent difficulties it carries. It also spawned from a re-reading of F.Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby".
> 
> It's not perfect, but it's all finished, so no worries about updates - as a rough estimate, i think it'll only be about ten chapters, maximum, plus a small epilogue. I hope you enjoy it!

_“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning —_

_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”_

When Lily Evans first found out that her boyfriend and his imbecilic friends were animagi, she beat him furiously with a copy of ‘Witch Weekly’, waited for him to change back into a man (the stag’s eyes made her feel guilty) and then resumed beating him. Sat across from her in her kitchen, the woman pregnant, to boot, Remus felt as if the same fate were about to befall him.

Lily picked up her mug from the table, surprisingly calm. Her fingers, long and pale, twitched next to the paperback book that lay on the table beside her. Remus shrank back in his seat.

 “You’re moving in?” she said slowly, fixing him with her gaze. He nodded.  “With Black?” She raised her eyebrows. He nodded again, twitching uncomfortably, eyes on the hand near the book (just in case). “After we offered you our spare?”

“Well, Sirius offered, and I just thought – with the baby, and you and James getting married, and all, this might – be easier for everyone.”

Lily nodded into her cup, shrugging. “Well.” She paused, peering at the tea. “Fair enough.”

“Really?”

“What, did you expect me to overreact, just because I’m pregnant?”

“Well, no, but earlier you shouted at me about the jam-“

“You were doing it wrong.” She said levelly, voice laced with danger.

“…I know.” He conceded, then paused. “Do you think I’ll survive him?”

“If you kill him, you will.” She said, sipping her tea completely seriously until she caught his worried expression, and smiled. “It’ll be fine. You’re single; he’s single; you can go out to pubs and chat people up, or whatever it is that single people our age do. I wouldn’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe you’ll be good for him.”

Remus looked a little relieved. “I hope so. He’s drawn up a list of ‘house rules’ already, and all _two hundred_ are completely ridiculous.”

Lily sniggered, then stopped, slightly apologetic. “ I’m glad living alone hasn’t changed him.”

“Apparently it has not.” They looked at eachother over the table wryly. It was in moments like this that Remus could understand why James was so tetchy and jealous of his having tea with Lily. Even though the concept of him ‘stealing her away’ was laughable, they had a connection that neither James nor Peter, let alone Sirius (who was indifferent to Lily at the best of times) could understand. Remus liked her; she was bossy, but often correct; she was smart, and a fantastic conversationalist, and she read a lot, so they could talk about books without one of them falling asleep. This ‘teatime at lily’s’ thing had become almost regular since Lily got married, and Remus appreciated her (often point-blank accurate) insights on his life. He stood. “Thanks for being such a good sport, Lils. Thanks for the book, too.”

She nodded graciously. “No problem.” She stood so that he could hug her goodbye, and handed him ‘ _The Great Gatsby_ ’ from beside her as he did. “It’s a little dry, at first,” she warned, meaning the book. “Persevere with it.”

Remus nodded. “I will. Thanks again.” She jokingly saluted him as he threw down the floo powder in the grate, and shouted the name of the hostel, grinning at her as he stood, hands in pockets, and felt himself spin away.

XxX

“This is yours.” Sirius did a funny, extravagant bow, gesturing into the small room, darkened by the stacks and stacks of boxes it contained.

Remus smiled at him weakly. “It’s great, Pads. Really. Thanks so much for this.” Sirius waved his hand dismissively.

“Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.” He stood aside to let Remus into the room. “I’ll go get your other things, yeah?” he left as Remus nodded mutely and wandered into the room to sink onto the empty bed frame, which sat in the middle of the room. His jeans creaked; at his knee a thread stood poised to split, and he worried it absently. Lily had already owled him twice to ‘see how they were getting on’; James’ head had flooed in briefly from work, and James had indelicately tried to communicate with Remus through a series of winks, eyebrow gymnastics and what Remus could only assume was attempted telepathy. When Sirius asked him if he was having an aneurysm he faked a coughing fit, rumbled, and withdrew from the grate very quickly.

Despite this obvious display of concern from their friends, however, Sirius seemed not to have noticed anything. He whistled cheerily, returning with a box of Remus’ labelled ‘CLOTHES’.  He stood in the middle of the room, glancing around. “Where d’you want this?”

Remus shrugged. “Anywhere is fine.”

 Sirius took this literally, and dropped the box - Remus thanked whatever deity was listening that the box hadn’t contained any of his books. After a few seconds, Sirius started to whistle again, and looking at him pointedly all the while. This continued for a few (fairly intense) seconds, before he stopped, obviously disappointed.

“Moony!”

“What?”

“Did you even _read_ the house rules?”

Remus looked at him, bewildered. “I – skimmed them. I got the gist.”

“Well, rule number forty-eight is that sing-alongs are _mandatory_.”

Remus laughed hopefully, like he was joking. Unfortunately, it seemed he was not. “I don’t know the words.” He confessed, hoping it would get him off the hook.

“That’s fine. I don’t either. We can whistle, like in that film Lily gets all upset about.”

“Snow White?"

“Yeah. That one.” He eyed Remus cautiously. “But no dwarf jokes.” Remus smiled. Even sitting down, the height difference was painfully apparent. Sirius had been sore about his stature ever since they all woke up one morning in sixth year and Remus seemed to have grown a foot overnight. He still insisted that magic had been involved, no matter how vehemently Remus denied it. Still looking suspicious, Sirius started his whistling again, this time ‘Danny Boy’, and went out again, leaving Remus to laugh to himself in the empty room, and to start unpacking. He bent over one of the boxes and was starting to unpack his first load of books when Lily’s owl tapped at the window for the third time that day. Remus crossed the room to meet it and opened the window, taking the note from its proffered leg when it got inside. He tried to tickle the bird’s forehead with two fingers but Lily’s bird was having none of it, dodging him whenever he attempted to get his hand near. He soon gave up.

The note said; ‘ _Killed him yet?’_ in Lily’s slanted, neat script. Remus sighed and looked at the owl, which tilted its head. “I know.” He said to it, tiredly. “But what can I do? He’s not so bad. Things will be fine.” The owl stared unblinkingly at him, its huge eyes glassy. Remus frowned at it. “Well, now you’re making me feel silly.” He tried to cuff it gently but the bird sidestepped him again. Sirius crashed back into the room with another box; Lily’s owl dropped backwards off the windowsill, presumably from surprise, and Remus saw it fly off in the next second. He crumpled the note and put it in his pocket. Sirius looked at him, standing in the middle of the room, the box between his two hands.

“Who were you talking to?”

“No one.” Remus said quickly. He crossed the room and took the box off him before he could drop it (this one _was_ books). “Is that everything?”

“I think so. Do you want help unpacking?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be alright.” Remus smiled wearily at him. “I think I’ll unpack and then just go to bed.”

“Will you not want dinner?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Sirius put both hands in the pockets of his jeans, visibly disappointed. “Fair enough. Let me know if you change your mind.” He nodded at Remus as he slouched out, and the werewolf watched him go before turning back to the boxes. He was exhausted, and nervous about the whole arrangement, truth be told, but just being in an actual _home,_ after two weeks of sleepless hostelling and the stress of being evicted, was a pleasure. Besides, Sirius was a mate. Mad, but still a mate. Maybe this would be fun.

XxX

“Morning. Sortof.” Remus grinned at Sirius as he walked into the kitchen at one in the afternoon, turning from where he stood at the cooker. Sirius looked appalled.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Making… breakfast, for you, lunch for me. An omelette.” Remus said slowly, his hand still on the panhandle. Sirius walked cautiously over to where he was standing.

“This is how muggles cook?”

“Well – not exactly, I’m using magic to stop it burning, but –“ He frowned. “Hang on. You’ve never used the cooker? You’ve been eating takeaways all this time?”

Sirius, ignoring him, leaned over and peered into the frying pan, a hand on Remus’ back, between his shoulder blades. Remus rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable, but the hand stayed put. The dark-haired man looked at him, stepped back finally, and leant with his forearms on the countertop beside the cooker, instead. “Well. Yeah.” He looked confused. Remus stared at him, scandalised.

“ _Pads._ That must have cost you a _fortune!_ ”

“It was fine! It’s only about a tenner a night. Muggle money. That’s not too bad, right?”

Remus just gaped. “I’m going to teach you how to cook.” He said, with resolve, and Sirius whined.

“Can’t you just cook from now on?”

“Not in good conscience, no.”  He poked at the omelette with his wand.

Sirius grumbled something about no-good boring werewolves and, finally, made a disgruntled noise. “Fine. But if I start to feel like I’m in school, I’m invoking rule seventeen.”

“Which is?” Remus asked warily. Sirius pointed at the fridge, upon which the great long list dangled down all its length from a ‘Battersea’ magnet. Remus squinted; it said; ‘ _If you bore me, you lose your sitting privileges for one week.’_  Remus looked back at him. “Sitting privileges?”

“No chairs. You have to sit on the floor for a week.”

“Right. Of course. How did I not work that out on my own.” He laughed. “Fair enough. Could you hand me a spatula?” Sirius looked confused for a moment, then dug in the drawer he was leaning on. After a couple of seconds, he looked up.

“What the hell’s a spatula?”

Remus moved the omelette in the pan with his wand. “A fork, then? Two knives, two forks, two plates. Do you really not know what a spatula is?” Sirius shrugged, watching him split the omelette in half with a muttered spell, went to a cupboard to get him the plates and cutlery, and handed them to him in silence, his eyes on the pan. Remus plated up the half-omelettes and rather patronisingly handed Sirius the plate, the fork and the knife. Sirius took it, staring sarcastically back, and wasted no time before shovelling a forkful into his mouth.

“Shit.” He sputtered through the food. “Alright. I’m convinced. You are a god among mortals, Remus Lupin. Feel free to teach me your ways.” He swallowed. Remus smirked at his own plate and went to sit at the little kitchen table.

“Shut up and eat it, Pads.” He muttered, and did the same.

XxX

“Remus?” A voice, harried, called from the kitchen. Remus pulled himself reluctantly out of ‘ _the Great Gatsby’_ and raised his head.

“Yeah?” He shouted back. Sirius appeared at the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and looked at him where he was sat on the sofa.

“Where’s the jam?”

“In the cupboard with the cereal. Why?”

“I couldn’t find it.” Sirius wandered back into the kitchen. Remus heard various crashes and bangs before Sirius’ face reappeared.

“Moons, did you _rearrange my kitchen_?”

Remus balked. “A bit. I suppose. I just put things together that were the same.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Well, I – it just seemed sensible. Now everything you need is together.”

Sirius flapped his jaw. “For god’s sake.” He muttered, and disappeared, going back into the kitchen. Remus heard more crashing and banging before Sirius stormed into the room fully, and stood behind the sofa, looking at him. “You rearranged the bathroom cabinets, too.”

Remus picked his bookmark up from the floor, slipped it in between the pages of the book, and closed it. He looked up at Sirius from where he was sitting. “They were a mess. It needed doing. Surely you’re not angry about it?”

“I had a system! I put shaving foam on my toothbrush this morning, thanks to you.”

“Well maybe you should pay attention.” Remus muttered, getting defensive. “I was trying to do something nice.”

“You were not. You were _meddling.”_ Sirius pulled a face. “I can’t find the bread.”

“It’s in the bread bin.”

“Yes- well –“ Sirius frowned. “I liked it better where it was before.”

“It was just out on the side! It was growing mould!”

“At least I knew where it was, though.”

“Sirius. You are overreacting.” He said slowly, and Sirius made a brash, irritated noise and slammed out of the room again. Remus lay back on the sofa, and sighed.

XxX

“He’s driving me mad.” Remus put his forehead on the cool table. Lily, opposite him, reached over and patted him.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Remus dragged himself up to sit straight again. “He’s a great bloke. He is, really. He’s just… _infuriating_ to live with. He walks around half-dressed all the time, he can’t cook worth anything, he’s _messy_ and he treads on my books when he comes in my room. He’s a _nightmare.”_

Lily’s mouth twisted sympathetically. “You know our house is always open, Rem.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve just got to deal with it, I suppose. I don’t want to intrude on you two.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll persevere.” He smiled wearily. “I love _the Great Gatsby.”_

“Good. I knew you would.” She sighed, tilting her head at him. “Things will be okay, you know. It takes awhile to get used to living with people, and you’re friends. You’ll be fine."

“I know.” He laughed. “I’d forgotten about his habits. I didn’t realise he’d changed so little since we were at school. I suppose it hasn’t been that long.”

Lily hooted. “It feels like years, to me! I can’t believe I’m having a wedding soon. I can’t believe I’m _pregnant.”_ She looked down at herself. “I’m going to look ridiculous in the dress.”

Remus smiled at her. “Nonsense.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s _this weekend._ Are you nervous?”

“Don’t talk to me.” She breathed, eyebrows drawn together. “I’m so nervous, I’m worried I’m going to go into labour before the service is over.”

“I don’t think you have that to worry about, Lils. You’re only barely showing.”

She bit her lip. “Do you think people know?”

“Probably not. People are much less perceptive than we give them credit for, in my experience.” He smirked. “Especially around the full moon.”

She laughed. “That’s true.”

XxX

“Are you ready?” Remus shouted, and heard his voice ring through the flat. The sound of Sirius’ hurried footsteps were all he received in answer. Rolling his eyes, Remus leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms. He shouted again, “Pads, we have to _go!”_ Sirius bounded into the room on the last word, tugging his shoes on. He stood in front of Remus, rumpled.

“My jacket is a mess, I don’t know what’s going on,” Sirius gasped, tugging at it. Remus went round the back of him.

“Keep still, idiot.” He straightened Sirius’ collar and pulled the sleeve so that Sirius could get his whole arm through, instead of trapping his elbow in it and flapping like a madman. “Better?”

“Much. Thanks.” Sirius’ shoulders dropped as he breathed. “Okay. Are we sorted? What do we need?”

Remus walked to the front door and opened it. “I’ve got the invitation, and the presents, and your speech. Anything else?”

“James has the rings, right?”

“Yes. He knows better than to trust you, after the engagement.”

“Low blow, Lupin.” Sirius pulled his jacket straight again and punched Remus lightly in the arm. “I’m so nervous. Is this normal?” He held his hand out. “Look at me; I’m shaking.” Remus pulled him out of the flat by his sleeve, closed the door behind him and they took the stairs together, Sirius following slightly behind and taking two at a time.

“You’ll be fine, Black.” Remus said over his shoulder. “Just concentrate on not being late.”

“Okay.” He heard Sirius breathing, almost hyperventilating, behind him. “Okay.”

They burst into the sunshine on the street after the seventh floor, and Remus stopped. Sirius crashed into him and regained his composure only after rebounding off the doorframe that led to the street, muttering a soft ‘ouch’.

“So where is it?”

“I have the address.” Sirius handed him a slip of paper, dug from his pocket. Remus looked at it briefly, then walked out into the street and held his arm out to flag down a taxi. The third one, finally, stopped, and after Remus ascertained that no, it wasn’t booked, and yes, it would go where they wanted and no, it wouldn’t cost a fortune, they got in. Sirius sat on the left, with his forehead against the window.

“I’m dying.” He muttered. Remus looked at him.

“Don’t be melodramatic. You’ll do fine. If there’s _anything_ you can do,” he laughed, “it’s make a speech.”

Sirius cast him a sarcastic, irritated look. “Your attempt at humour is not appreciated.” His face fell. He pressed his cheek against the window. “Do you really think I’ll be okay?”

“James wouldn’t have asked you if you couldn’t do it.”

“I s’pose.” Sirius breathed out heavily, melting into the seat. “I hope I don’t fuck it up.”

Remus put a hand on his shoulder, and Sirius wrapped his hand around Remus’ arm, over his suit-jacket, in response. Remus, feeling Sirius’ need was greater than his own personal space issues, let him.

XxX

“Moony! Hey, Moony!”

Alice Longbottom, leaning on the wall,  giggled and pointed over his shoulder at the source of the voice. Remus, tipsy but still no more receptive to Sirius’ ridiculousness, turned only slowly. “Hi, Padfoot. Enjoying yourself?”

“Oi, don’t patronize me just because I’m a bit drunk.” Sirius swaggered over to them and elbowed him in the ribs. He grinned. “It’s a wedding, and I’m the best man. My speech is over. I’m _supposed_ to be drunk.”

Frank, at Remus’ left, chuckled. “Can’t say fairer than that.”

“Lovely of you to volunteer to look after him, Frank.”

 Frank raised his hands in surrender. “I did no such thing.” He grabbed Alice’s arm. “Ooh, look, is that Lily’s sister? I’ve always wanted to get to know a muggle.” He dragged Alice, who waggled her fingers apologetically, quickly away. Remus, left alone with drunken Sirius, cursed Frank vehemently in his head.

Sirius pointed his wand at the open bar and muttered ‘ _accio alcohol!’._ Bewilderingly, it actually worked, and two bottles of Ogden’s Finest whizzed through the crowd towards him, only clipping two other wedding guests on their way. He handed one to Remus. “Yes, I _am_ enjoying myself, thanks. Did you like the speech?”

Remus snorted. “It was wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lily’s sister so pale.”

“I know. It was _fantastic._ ” Sirius grinned at him. “Fancy a dance?”

“First of all, no person in their right mind should _ever_ dance with you. Secondly, no one in their right mind should dance with me, either.”

Sirius leaned against the wall behind them. “Oh, well, in that case.” He crossed his arms and surveyed the crowd. “Who _are_ all these people?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. The only people I’ve met so far that I recognised have been James, Lily, the Longbottoms, and you.”

“Likewise.” Sirius bent forward to gather his long hair together at the base of his neck, and tie it into a low ponytail. He leaned back again when he was done. “I hate weddings.”

“Really? I like them. All these people. It’s all in good fun.”

Sirius tutted. “It’s _boring._ Prongs is pretty boring, now, too.”

“That’s not really fair, Pads.”

“Maybe not, but it’s true.” Sirius turned to look at him. “Can you imagine what it’ll be like when Lily has the baby?”

“Don’t be depressing.” Remus chided him. “He’s still James, and he’s in love. Can you really begrudge him that?” Sirius shrugged. They were silent for a few moments, surveying the party, until Remus clicked his tongue. “Do you still smoke?"

“Yeah. Why, do you?”

“Picked it up a few months ago.” He didn't mention in what circumstances, not wanting to put a damper on the occasion. 

“Fantastic.” Sirius led the way through the throngs of people, with Remus following behind, until they hit the car park. Outside in the warm air, they stopped. Sirius sat on the pavement beside the car park, and Remus followed suit.

Silence descended again, in the fumblings for cigarettes and lighters. Remus lit his own, then let Sirius grab the lighter off him and do the same. Both sat for a moment, separately inhaling, letting it the smoke curl up inside their lungs and then flow out from between their lips in streams. Sirius held the cigarette away from his mouth and took a long swig from the bottle in his hand.

“We have fun living together, right?” He asked, looking Remus in the eyes. Remus shrugged.

“Yeah. Well, I like it. Do you?”

“I don’t like you moving my things around,” Sirius began, then caught the warning look Remus was giving him, “But yeah. I like it well enough. It’s been nice to have someone else in the house.”

“Same here.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sirius talked to his full hands pensively, glancing only briefly at Remus’ face as he talked. “How did you lose your flat?”

Remus laughed out loud, halfway through dragging on the cigarette, and coughed slightly. “It’s no dramatic tale, really.” He drew his knees up to his chest and set his folded arms on them. Sirius sat with his legs crossed, leaning on one knee with his elbow, the bottle now sitting on the floor in front of him. “I lost my job again. I missed a week’s worth of work after my transformation last month, and with no notice …well, I don’t really blame them.” He shrugged. “It’s alright. I’ll be on my feet again, soon enough.”

Sirius nodded mutely, breathing smoke out through his nose and mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Really. I’m just lucky I have you lot to depend on.” He nudged Sirius with his shoulder. “Look what you’ve done. We’re all morose, now.”

Sirius’ eyes lingered on his face, trailing over the lines of scars that crossed the flesh at the bridge of his nose, his temple, across one cheek. He laughed, and looked away, pressing the cigarette to his mouth again and mumbling, “Sorry, mate,” around it. 


	2. Chapter 2

He woke the next morning to crashes as Sirius blundered around the kitchen, unable to do anything in a way that was not either loud or intrusive. Groggily, Remus slid out of bed. When he reached the kitchen in his shirt and boxers, Sirius turned around from the cooker. “Whoops. Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Me and the rest of London, Pads.” But he smiled. He wandered over. “What’re you cooking?”

“Bacon and eggs. Figured you’d be incapacitated, after yesterday.”

Remus covered his face with one hand and groaned. “I feel okay, actually. Physically. Mentally, I am mortified by my behaviour.” He remembered everything, but was almost sorry that he did. There had been some terrible disco-dancing on his part, and some half-hearted singing with James, and then he had listened to Sirius tell Lily he loved her for half an hour before they’d decided it was time to go home, and even then, when they got in, there’d been beer to finish. It was a wonder he wasn’t wishing for death, at this point. The most he felt hungover was a dry throat and a slight, whingeing headache from dehydration. He took a glass from one of the cupboards, filled it at the tap and gulped it down; the pressure between his eyes started to lift.

“You weren’t _that_ bad. As for me, I doubt Lily will ever speak to me again, the way I was draping myself all over her.”

“I think she was quite flattered, actually. It’s James you’ve got to watch out for.”

“Oh, Prongs.” Sirius said theatrically, looking longingly into the distance. “He’s only just realising I will always be sexually superior to him.”

“A lovely thought for nine in the morning.” Remus peered into the pan. “You’re burning the bacon.” Sirius shoved him away.

“Don’t back-seat cook. I’m trying to do something nice.” He gestured to the table. “Sit down. Behave yourself.”

“Yes, mum.” He muttered, and went to sit down. Sirius chose not to respond, beyond flipping Remus the bird over his shoulder. Once everything was plated up, he brought it over.

“Good enough for you?”

“I must say I’m impressed.”

 Sirius sat down opposite him, and dug into his food almost immediately. “Listen, mate,” he said, through a mouthful of egg, “I’m sorry about your job. If you need money, or anything-“

Remus held up a hand. “I only told you because you asked, Pads. I don’t want anything from you. _Especially_ not money.”

“Okay, but just so you know; it’s always an option.”

“Thanks.” They ate in silence. Remus, finishing second, could feel Sirius’ gaze on him as he speared his bacon with the fork. He glanced up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Fine. Why?”

“Dunno. You’re a bit quiet.”

“Just a bit hung over.”

“I’m not surprised.” Remus pushed the bacon around on his plate. “So, speaking of the job; I’ve got an interview today.”

Sirius looked up. “Really? Where?”

“Flourish and Blotts. Nothing special. It’s glorified shelf-stacking, but I’ll make a decent bit of pocket money if I get it.” He shrugged. “And it’s the first magical place to give me an interview in awhile.”

The other man nodded mutely in reply. Remus scraped the last scraps of egg and bacon across his plate into a small pile, looked at them and gathered them half-heartedly with his knife and fork, eating them only because he felt he was obligated to. Truth be told, his stomach wasn’t nauseous from their drinking, but rather from the unpleasant, nagging feeling that this interview was going to be an exercise in deception; an ordeal, rather than an opportunity; mostly because, technically, he was supposed to inform all employers of his ‘status’ as a magical creature, and he was never sure if he could resist the lie.

He put his fork and knife in the middle of his plate, picked it up and took it to the sink, feeling Sirius watch him go. 

“The interview’s at midday; I’d better get myself sorted.” Sirius nodded again, still eating, and Remus left the room. His stomach burned with anxiety.

 He went straight to the bathroom for a shower, locked the door behind him and undressed, stepped into the low-slung bath and stood in the sharp spray of cold water as it slowly warmed, head lowered, hair in his eyes. Eventually he reached for the shampoo, and washed himself; but the action, perfunctory as it was, carried a sort of foreboding, a resistance. He was not ready for this, today. He paused washing his arm, and ran his fingers over the place where his brand ran, solidly black, across his shoulder.

It was not obvious, if you weren’t looking for it. Only his fellow marauders knew that he’d been branded when he hit seventeen, that he’d been ‘registered’, in accordance with the new laws. He’d taken it rather cavalierly, refusing at the time to let something so petty and ridiculous get him down. But when this facet of his life, this unfortunate curse meant the difference between him keeping a livelihood and losing it, the brand took on an entirely different significance. He shook his head and left the bath, taking his hand from the number burned on his skin, dried himself and left the bathroom in his pyjamas, to dress in his room. Sirius was still in the kitchen.

XxX

Remus thought privately that the tube was an abomination. Lily, twisted as she was, enjoyed it; she liked the hot air, the cramped space, the people pressing in and around you at all times, the likelihood of being pickpocketed. But, then, Lily had grown up in the city, and Remus was from a hamlet in Yorkshire.

He missed it sometimes; knowing everyone, being able to walk for hours in the mornings and not meet a soul on your way, but he was romanticising it, by virtue of its distance. The Lupins were not well liked at home, partly due to their strangeness, their introverted nature. Even the muggles thought them odd, and gave them a wide berth on the street. They’d had a few friends – his mother grew up there, after all – but ‘that strange boy’ and a few decidedly magical incidents had all but ostracised them from even that close-knit society. Life was better in general in the city. It required less effort, less connection. It was easier to lose oneself, to live the life that you wanted, without outside input or judgement. 

Remus could just do without the tube.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached his stop and pushed his way through the crowd, all but running up the dingy stairs to the outside. Once there, he knew the way to Diagon alley, and was much more comfortable.

He kept his hand on his wand in his pocket, though, as most of them did these days. The wedding had been lovely, a sanctuary against ‘real life’, but it did not slow the pace of the war, or change the fact that Lily and James had married on impulse, terrified by the people they’d known (and those they didn’t) apparently dropping like flies around them. Every morning, beside _‘tips and tricks for crafty witches!_ ’ sat the fattening death toll; an addendum.

These numbers made him feel simultaneously connected to the wizard community, and terribly alone. He avoided newspapers these days, apart from when the impulse suddenly took him, or he had another horrible dream. It worked out better when he didn’t know.

Running now, late, he tapped his way into Diagon Alley, tripped down the cobblestones to the shop front, straightened himself (trying, failing, to regulate his breath) and walked in, as casually as he could muster. The man at the counter looked up when the bell on the door rang. Remus went over.

“I’m here for an interview?” He asked warily. The little man, balding, white-haired, in little square glasses, squinted at him.

“Which one are you?”

“Remus Lupin.”

“ah.” The little man looked closely at a list, and then drew a line through something indecipherable; Remus assumed it was his name. “This way.” He led Remus into the room behind the counter; a tiny office stacked high with books and papers, the doorway so low that Remus had to stoop just to get inside. The little man gestured to a chair, for Remus to sit down, and sat down himself, opposite. “So. Do I have your qualifications?”

“I think so. I brought a spare, though, just in case.” He dug in his pockets for the paper and handed it over. The man brought it close to his face.

“Four NEWTS, eh? And all Outstanding.” He looked up at Remus. “Impressive.”

“Thankyou.”

The little man frowned, and put the paper in his lap. “It says you worked for a muggle library?”

“I did, yes.”

“And you worked at Fortescue’s for a while also, did you not?”

“I did.”

“And at the Ministry?”

“Only briefly.”

“Well,” the little man breathed, raising his eyebrows. “The question is, what are you doing _here_?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s be honest, Mr. Lupin. A man with your qualifications doesn’t often go looking for jobs barely above the minimum wizarding wage. I hope you’re not hoping to get more out of this than is available to you.”

“I’m not. I just like books. I’m only looking for something part-time.”

The man shrugged. “Well, we could definitely take you on, if you know what you’re getting into. It won’t be the most exciting, or intellectually stimulating job. But we’ll pay you.”

Remus smiled tightly. “That’ll do me just fine.” The little man held his hand out to shake, and Remus did not take it. Fear, and a kind of rage, built in his stomach. “I should-“ He began, and thenstopped. “Shall I come in on Monday?”

“You can come in tomorrow, if you want. It’s all the same to me.” Remus shook his hand, finally.

“Great. I’ll be here tomorrow, then. Eight o’clock?”

“Seven, if you can.”

“Seven. Right. Thank you very much, Mr…?”

“Flourish. Thaddeus.” He nodded, and followed Remus out of the office. Remus left awkwardly, the bell ringing behind him, feeling simultaneously glad and guilty to have deceived the little man.

They’d been warned against apparition, but Remus was not about to get on the tube again. He stepped into it in the middle of the street near Flourish and Blotts, and disappeared.

XxX

Lily was brown on her return from the honeymoon; she was also noticeably more pregnant. Remus gaped at her when she flooed into Sirius’ flat, insisting on visiting them, for once (Remus felt it was an inspection of their living quality, more than anything). She hugged him and her hard, round belly pressed against his own.

“Blimey, Lils. You’re getting huge.”

She smacked him. “And you, Remus, are still the very embodiment of tact.” She looked around. “It’s clean. I’ve never been in Sirius’ flat before. Can I look around?”

“Do you want a drink, first?”

“Ooh. I’d love one, thanks.” She followed him into the kitchen. Pregnancy suited her, though she’d been afraid that it wouldn’t. There was something beautiful about Lily always, but that something was brightened, lifted, in her current state. She was obviously tired and suffering a little, but it was true; she _glowed._ Her hair hung in a long plait down her back, and her maternity dress was flowered, frumpy on anyone else, but she looked the part. Beautiful. Remus admired her as she sat at the kitchen table and looked around.

“Tea?”

“Only half a cup. James thinks it might be bad for the baby.” Remus nodded. Lily sat back. “So, where is he?”

“Asleep, I expect. I don’t know.” Remus shrugged. “He’s in a strop with me, I think.”

“Really? What for?”

The kettle boiled and Remus poured the tea out, then went to get milk. He frowned at the pitiful amount that was left in the carton. “I don’t know. He’s been grumpy ever since your wedding, and then he was fine again, and now he’s in a piss all the time. I can’t keep tabs on him; he is maddening.”

Lily made a noise of assent. “So he’s not easy to live with?”

Remus hummed, struggling with the words. “Well – no. He’s lovely, sometimes. He made me breakfast the other day, and he’s learning how to cook. He picks up after himself, mostly.”

“That’s good.”

“Mm. I just wish he weren’t so quiet. I never expected that, of all things, to be the problem.”

“Maybe something happened.”

“I don’t know. I’m a bit upset he wouldn’t tell me, if anything did.”

Lily shrugged. “He’s more complicated than we give him credit for. He hasn’t a job at the moment, as well. Maybe he’s getting a bit agitated, living off his inheritance. I would.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“How’s the job?” Remus took the tea over and set it in front of her. She thanked him. He slid into the chair opposite her.

“It’s good, mostly. I’m still afraid of getting fired, but Flourish is a good man, and we get on well, even if it’s not the most interesting job. I like getting out and about.”

Lily huffed. “I’m jealous. James is driving me insane. Ever since I started really showing it’s been ‘Do you need a chair, Lils?’ ‘are you comfortable Lils?’ ‘Don’t hold that book, Lils, you’re in a delicate state!’” She groaned. “It was endearing for all of two seconds; now all I want to do is smash his big, caring face in.”

“Glad to see you two are keeping the passion alive.”

“More than you know.” She said, eyebrows raised, and Remus choked on his tea laughing.

“That’s vile. I hope you’re not serious.”

Lily tapped her nose. “A lady never tells – Oh, hi, Sirius.” The other man had wandered into the room in just his boxers. He looked at her as if she was an alien, affronted.

“Hi, Lily. What are you doing here?”

Lily smiled. “Just catching up. How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” He said shortly, crossed the room, and set about making toast. Behind his back, Lily raised her eyebrows again, and mouthed ‘ _I see what you mean’_. Remus frowned apologetically.

“Alright, Pads?”

Sirius turned from where he waited in front of the toaster. “Yeah, great. How was your honeymoon, Lils? I haven’t heard from Prongs much.”

Lily folded her hands in front of her, interlacing her fingers. “Wonderful. We had a lot of fun, thanks. Have you not seen him?”

“No, not recently.” Sirius shrugged. “Tell him to drop me an owl, yeah?”

“I will.”

Remus turned away from where he faced Sirius, who stood obstinate against the counter still, but was at least being friendly. Most days he was his excitable, infuriating self, but more and more often he seemed to be retreating. Remus couldn’t understand it. “So, is it a boy or a girl? Do we know yet?” He asked Lily, and she shrugged.

“Not officially, but me and James are almost certain it’s a girl. Time will tell, I suppose.” She put both hands around the warm mug, now empty. Sirius’ toast popped and he hurriedly buttered it, took it in hand, no plate, and wandered out. After a few seconds, they heard the door to his bedroom slam. “What’s wrong with him, I wonder?” Lily sounded more interested than concerned, and Remus didn’t blame her.

“I really couldn’t tell you.”

XxX

Remus should have known, he reasoned later, that everything would change. Things were too ordered, too balanced, to stay the way they were.

He came home one Monday evening after a long shift and an even longer aimless, ambling walk around London.  He’d stopped in a muggle café and spent some of his hard-earned cash, having exchanged it for muggle money the day before. The shop been uncharacteristically busy; one of their stocked books, it turned out, had been cursed to attach itself to the reader once they reached a certain page, and Remus had been ambushed all day by angry witches and wizards with books clamped to their palms, demanding refunds. Then there had been curse-breakers (arrogant lot that they were, and unfortunately no sign of James) to deal with, and at the end of it all, Remus had never needed a cup of tea more in his life.

His flatmate had been thankfully absent when he got in; the kitchen was silent, lacking in Sirius’ usual crashing around, and Remus caught his breath in the quietness, unpacking the various things he’d bought from the corner shop and putting them in the fridge. He had just settled himself on the sofa, reading ‘ _The Great Gatsby’_ again, when the door went, and Sirius slammed in, and already, from the lack of a ‘hello’ and the waiting tension in the air, Remus knew something was wrong.

“Alright?” He called through the doorway, from the sofa. Sirius crashed a little more, his reply delayed.

“Yeah. Did you have a good day?”

“It was alright. I’m tired, though. Do you want dinner?”

“What have we got?”

“Not much.” He shouted back, closed the book again and went into the kitchen. Sirius was standing over the sink. “Where’ve you been?”

Sirius shrugged. “Out."

Remus’ face twisted, disapproving. “Out where?”

Sirius shrugged again. He avoided looking Remus in the eye.

“Pads, are you alright?” The kitchen stood half-dark between them – Sirius at the sink, Remus standing near to the table, one hand on it. Sirius exhaled a breath so great that it rattled through his lungs and made a sound. He seemed to shrink where he stood, as Remus watched.

“I’ve been looking for Regulus.”

Remus tried to take the news casually. He didn’t know much about Sirius’ family; mostly, he chose not to ask. “Oh? Any luck?”

“No.” Sirius stared at the floor. “It was stupid of me. Sorry I’ve been such an arsehole, lately.”

“S’alright. We all have our moments.” Remus passed him to get to the fridge and stuck his head inside it to look for likely dinnertime candidates. Seeing nothing, he raised his head to look at Sirius. “It’s been a long day for both of us. What do you say to a takeaway?”

“Perfect.” Sirius smiled back at him, strained but genuine. “Can you call them, though? They get a bit funny when I do it. Haven’t worked out the telephone just yet.”

“Yeah, okay. What do you want?”

“Chinese? Same as usual?”

“Sounds good.” He pushed past Sirius again, who still stood at the sink, and then felt the other man grab his arm. He stopped. “What? Sirius. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” The grip on his arm went slack, and then tightened again. Sirius just looked at him; Remus, worried about him, or stupefied, or something, fought the urge to shake him off. “Yeah, only –“ the tap behind him dripped; the silence deepened, light in the kitchen blue, and Remus wanted to cross the room, turn the light on, leave to phone the chinese; something other than stand here with Sirius looking at him so strangely. He felt like an oddity, defensive, the way things were at work. He was just about to pull away when Sirius said, quietly, “It’s been nice having you here.”

Remus laughed, relieved. “Is that all? It’s been nice being here, Pads. Especially rent-free. I think I owe you more than you owe me.”

“No. No, that’s not all. It’s to do with it.” He struggled with the words. “Listen _.”_

“I’m listening.” The hand still had not left his arm. He felt his wrist grow hot underneath it.

“Have you ever felt like…” He stopped, grunting frustratedly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You wouldn’t be making such a fuss if that were true.” Remus peered at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is it Regulus?” He stepped closer, genuinely concerned. He wished that Sirius would let go of his arm; but the grip had relaxed, now, at least.

Remus studied his face, and then he felt it; the tension, whatever it was, crept in on them both and suddenly he felt as if he had two options; leave; or stay, and address whatever had thrown itself over his head in the last ten seconds.

“I think something’s wrong with me.” Sirius said carefully, and stepped closer. His hand trembled on Remus’ arm; he stuttered, and, maddest of all, he kissed him. Remus. With a hesitancy and a gentleness that Remus had never attributed to him before.

It passed in a quiet moment before Sirius pulled away. They stared at one another. Sirius still did not withdraw his hand. “I wantyou.” He said, voice reverent and soft, confused. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Remus’ head babbled incoherently. His first thought was ‘ _Is this a joke?’_ and then, more desperately, ‘ _What if it isn’t?’._ “I don’t-“ He needed time, to plan what he was going to say, but there was none. “I didn’t know.”

The weight of Sirius’ hand lifted almost immediately. Sirius grinned sheepishly and looked away. “Merlin.” He muttered. “I’m sorry, Moons. It’s been a stressful week. That was – that was weird. I don’t-”

Remus tried to interrupt, to redirect him, but had nothing to say. He was lost. This Sirius – who had looked so alone, so desperate, in those few seconds – was like nothing he had come across before. Completely alien. Remus stepped back. “Of course. Don’t worry about it.” He laughed, voice breaking. “It never happened.”

“No. No, it didn’t. Thanks.”

“I’ll – I’ll go order the chinese, shall I?”

“Thanks.”

He left Sirius in the kitchen, in the dark, and went to the phone, but something was crackling in the air still, waiting, and it settled itself over his shoulders, dug claws into his skin. His thoughts, misaligned, did not collect themselves. Not then. Helpless against this – whatever it was – he stood for a moment in the dark living room, and tried to pull himself back together. 


	3. Chapter 3

‘ _Moony,_

_Lils is staying at her mum’s this weekend, so I’ve some time off from being the World’s Best Husband. Haven’t seen you boys in a while!_ _I assume Pads is sulking, so tell him to get over himself. Meet me in the Cauldron tonight, and bring your drinking trousers!_

___Prongs._

_P.S. if Sirius’ flat has been compromised and you are a death eater, please disregard this invitation.’_

Remus snorted, leaning on the counter at Flourish and Blotts. James’ sense of humour never failed to surprise him; you would think that battling muggle-killing curses all day he’d be a bit more serious about the war, but aside from Lily, James took nothing seriously. He flipped the letter over and wrote on the back,

 

‘ _We’ll be there. Pads is in a strop with you but will no doubt want to go anyway. What about Pete?_

_R._

_P.S. not a death eater.’_

_  
_

He attached the note and the bird looked haughtily at him before flying out through the side-window again. Remus wondered idly how he was going to ask Sirius to come to the Cauldron tonight without actually speaking to him.

To say that things were different after Sirius kissed him was an understatement. Communication had gone from sporadic at best to almost non-existent in the week that followed; Remus went to work, came home, made dinner for them both which they ate in awkward, halting politeness, then went to bed and read. In the mornings he would sometimes run into Sirius and stammer while Sirius looked helpless, and then he would make some excuse, and leave (or, more accurately, run away).

He didn’t know _how_ to react. There was no protocol for what to do when your friend and flatmate suddenly decided he – and Remus would never forget his wording – _wanted_ you. Remus had never been _wanted,_ as far as he knew.

He had never wanted anyone himself, either; he’d _liked_ others, to various degrees – a pretty Hufflepuff he had Care of Magical Creatures with in second year, Lily for a brief mad stint, and almost no one else. The problem was that all thoughts of romance and fuss had been sidelined in his Hogwarts career – when he wasn’t recovering from his transformation or dealing with his friends he was working desperately to earn the right to stay at Hogwarts, to make the most of the opportunity Dumbledore had given him. Romance, sex, even, had just seemed silly by comparison; it wasn’t like he could be with anyone long-term, anyway.

He’d told himself that _after_ school, _after_ he got his OWLs and his NEWTs he could think about it, and go out with people, and it would be much easier. It didn’t work out that way, of course; on entering the ‘real world’ he found himself distant, inexperienced, uncomfortable with contact, standoffish and awkward and, despite himself, rude. The few fumbled attempts at connection with girls at the ministry, or the disastrous double dates Lily took him on ended mostly in tears or silence. He didn’t even have any _friends_ bar those from school _,_ let alone anyone romantic to focus on…And now there was this.

 Somehow, unwittingly, he had done something to Sirius that made him behave this way, and now what was left? He’d never thought about Sirius in that way. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about another man in that way – his few romantic interests had varied greatly – but _Sirius_ , never. He’d just never seen him as an option, and now that he was, he had no idea how to feel. He couldn’t even fathom why, of all people, Sirius had chosen _him_ to _want._ How long had it gone on for? Had he, somehow, jilted Sirius in school? In the months that followed? Was it some kind of strange stockholm syndrome, brought on by living together? Was Sirius going mad? (madd _er?_ ).

It just didn’t make sense to him. The kiss, the tension, the spark in the air that had passed through him in the moments after like a gunshot. It just didn’t make sense.

“Lupin?”

Remus turned, roused from his thoughts. He pulled himself up straight from where he’d been leaning on the counter. “Yes?”

Thaddeus rounded the corner, emerging from behind a bookcase. “Are you asleep, boy? I asked you to stack those half an hour ago.”

Remus looked down. “Sorry, Thad. I’ll go.”

His boss eyed him suspiciously. “You alright, Lupin? You look…” he trailed off. Remus smiled weakly.

“I’m just a bit distracted, is all.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No!” He laughed, hurriedly. “No, I’ll be fine. Thankyou, though.”

“Alright.” Thaddeus disappeared into the office; Remus picked up the stack of books and hefted them around the corner to stack them. He wouldn’t send Sirius an owl; he would tell him when he got home, in due course. They were going to spend the evening together, anyhow; he might as well start the dialogue early.

XxX

“The bastard. Always late.” Sirius, in tired leather jacket, ‘Clash’ t-shirt and jeans, leaned on the wall outside the Cauldron with his hands in his pockets. Remus stood awkwardly beside him in his own long coat. “Got any fags?” Remus dug in his pocket and handed him one mutely. “Thanks.” Sirius lit the cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter instead of his wand; he always did this. Remus wasn’t sure why, but he suspected it was the same reason Sirius dressed almost like a muggle, why he listened to muggle music and had gone to see David Bowie the other week; to a pure-blood wizard _, this_ was rebellion. Remus didn’t really get it.

James was at least half an hour late now, Sirius was thoroughly pissed off, and even Remus was getting tetchy. He turned to Sirius. “Is Pete coming?”

Sirius’ hair was getting longer, Remus noticed; so long that it hung over his face when he bent forward to re-light the cigarette, which had gone out in the frigid air. “I don’t know. He might still be at that thing he’s doing in Scandinavia.” Peter, apologising profusely, had missed the wedding. James had been deeply hurt by it; towards the end, as things got more drunken and vague, he had complained loudly of this unfairness to anyone who would listen.

 Remus didn’t really feel victimised by it; it was sad that Peter couldn’t make it to the wedding, but a job was more important. He couldn’t help it, and Remus hoped that his friends would extend him the same leniency if he were in Pete’s position. He doubted it, though, judging by the psychotic, half-joking howler James had sent Peter while drunk. Sirius dropped the end of the cigarette and stubbed it out. Remus handed him another and put one in his own mouth, holding his hand out for the lighter when Sirius had lit his. They smoked in silence.

“Do you think we should go inside?”

“No, he won’t know we’re here.”

“Okay.”

Remus tried to inconspicuously examine his friend in his peripheral vision. Sirius cut a fine figure in muggle clothes; that was a fact. On the tube on the way over they’d been accosted by numerous muggle girls winking and looking him over, and one particularly audacious, drunken one had even slipped him her phone number. Sirius had taken these compliments with the gracious, arrogant air of one who was used to it, and Remus had been irritated. Who was this man? Certainly not the creature that had kissed him, the one who had breathed; who said _want,_ and then, _you._

He was a handsome boy, Remus thought, but also a liar.

 _Want_ you, he’d said.

He shuddered, cigarette warm in his hand, the rest of his body ice cold. Words had a kind of magic; He had always known that. Getting rid of them - finding the counter-curse, he supposed - was the puzzle.

Sirius caught him looking and raised his head, cigarette still burning in one hand. “What?”

“Nothing.” He looked up the road. “I think I see James.”

Sirius snorted irritably and dropped his own cigarette, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot when it hit the wet pavement. “About fucking time.”

XxX

The evening, as most evenings with James did, turned into the night and ended with James leaving the table to ‘take a tactical’, as he called it. Sirius was drunk at the bar, chatting with Tom, the bartender, and moving his arms a lot. Remus was drunk too, but more quietly, as he was wont. He sat in the booth and watched Sirius be excitable, for the first time in what felt like a long while. He felt the slight, nagging pull of guilt, watching him actually enjoy himself. He was getting sentimental; mostly because of the booze.

Having James back was obviously good for Sirius’ health. The two were joined at the hip, of course, so an absence or a tiff hurt both of their feelings. Luckily, it had only taken a couple of apologetic pints and a brief, tipsy heart-to-heart to get them to the point where they slung their arms around eachother and sang. James slid back into the booth, looking no worse for wear despite his vomiting. “Alright?” He said cheerily. He turned to look over at Sirius. “Blimey, I’d save Tom if I didn’t think it was so funny.”

Remus laughed in response. “How’s work?”

James tutted and waved his hand. “Boring, boring, boring. We’ve had a couple of raids that the muggle artefacts department called us in with, but they turned out to be false alarms. I’ve been on a thousand wild goose chases in the last month or so. People are getting paranoid.” He shrugged. “But I’m not in the job for the excitement. I’m in it for Lily and what’s-her-name, whatever we decide to call the kid.”

“Excited?” Remus ventured. James brightened.

“Are you joking? I’m over the fucking moon, if you’ll excuse the expression. You saw me when I found out – a little Lily! I wish pregnancy were shorter.” He looked quickly at Sirius again, then leaned over the table, voice low. The cauldron, busy, almost drowned him out. “Hey. Do you think Pads will be godfather?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?” James looked confused. Remus laughed at him. “Sorry. Muggle joke. Yes, I think he’ll be godfather, you nonce. He’d have been properly pissed off if you didn’t ask him.”

“Okay. Good. I’m going to ask him after it’s born. Just – you know, to be sure.” James’ face flashed from cheerful to terrified and back in a millisecond, his terror hidden well. This baby wasn’t their first attempt; in seventh year, towards the end, Lily had been pregnant for all of two weeks. James, at the time, had been hysterical, terrified, but also (Remus learned later) thrilled; and when they lost it, comatose - hence his lavished attention on Lily and his nervousness, this time around. Remus sat back in the booth and watched as Sirius, finally shrugged off by Tom, walked back to them.

“Alright. Well. Your secret is safe with me.”

James nodded, and moved up to let Sirius into the booth. Sirius stood in front of them instead. “I’m knackered, Prongs. I’m too old for this shit. I’m – I’m quite drunk, actually.”

James raised an eyebrow. “I gathered.” He sighed heavily. “ _Fine,_ you party poopers, I suppose I should be getting off, anyway.” He slid out of the booth again. Remus stood, too, and was crushed when James dragged them both into a tight, drunken hug, squashing the three of them uncomfortably together. When they were finally released, Sirius nearly fell over. “It’s been great to see you, boys.” He looked mildly misty-eyed. “Hopefully I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Better be.” Sirius warned. “Don’t make me fall out with you again.”

“Yeah, alright, Pads.” James looked at Remus. “Make sure he doesn’t splinch himself.”

“We’ll take the bus.”

XxX

Sirius proved harder to drag home than Remus had anticipated. He weaved in the cold air; he made a fuss about getting on the Knight Bus, and then fell over when it stopped outside the flat. He dawdled on the stairs, dragged his feet about coming inside and demanded that they watch television, even though it was four o’clock in the morning and literally nothing was on. Remus resented playing the responsible one, if only because he was just as drunk as Sirius, if a little better at hiding it. There had been a point on the Knight Bus where he’d been close to just vomiting over everyone’s shoes, stepping off the bus into the night and never coming back. Luckily though, the feeling passed.

Sirius channel-hopped, though half the channels were off-line, sitting on the sofa with his leather jacket slung over one arm. Remus lay with his legs over Sirius’, and Sirius eyed them hesitantly.

“Not afraid I’m going to assault you again, then?”

Remus looked at him from where he sat. Arrogance came floating up through his chest, unwieldy. “No. Should I be?”

“Probably.”

Remus sniggered, and the laugh made Sirius laugh, and Remus watched the side of Sirius’ face for a moment, briefly fascinated by the way Sirius’ cheekbone pulled across his profile and then blended into the rest of it; the shadow underneath. He got slightly confused. He forgot what they’d been talking about, and then remembered.

He pulled his legs away, sat up on the sofa, and looked Sirius in the eyes. “Really?” He said, only half-joking. Sirius stared back and that moment, before, stood in the wings behind his eyes, waiting to break through again. It was vulnerable, and so was, Remus realised, Sirius. However much he tried to pretend this was not the case.

He wasn’t really thinking at all when he touched Sirius’ hair, where it hung in front of his ear. Sirius never broke eye contact. “What are you _doing_ , Moons?” He said incredulously. Remus did not reply. He touched Sirius’ stomach with his other hand, instead. He leaned very, very close.

“Is this what -?” He said quietly, hand curled around Sirius’ waist, the other resting under his ear, pulling hair away from his face. Sirius moved forward and kissed him, urgently, that hand going back to his arm again. Remus kissed him back, breathing as they pulled back and met, again. He moved, shuffled them so that Sirius was sitting in the corner of the sofa and Remus was on him, sitting over his legs, hand lingering still at his waist. “Is it?” He asked, watching Sirius’ face, eyes wide. They stank, he realised, and this was – not right, somehow. Not fair. Sirius seemed to have realised it, too.

“Why are you doing this?” He said slowly, breathing hard. Remus moved where he was sitting and felt Sirius twitch underneath him.

“I don’t know.” He replied, truthfully. He held Sirius’ face in one hand. Sirius stared back.

“Think about it.”

“I am.” He moved his thumb in small circles on Sirius’ side.

“It happened.” Sirius said tiredly, looking up at him. Remus stared back.

“It happened.” He repeated, staring at his chin, hand still on Sirius’ cheek. He felt the other man’s jaw move when he spoke.

It was easy, early in the morning, drunk. It made a lot more sense.

“Can we deal with it?”

“I don’t know.” Remus answered, truthfully. He looked up. He had wanted – he didn’t know. Some kind of closeness; to know what it was Sirius wanted from him, in the end. He was unfamiliar with how this went, with how one went about deciphering something of this nature, and alcohol and tiredness were making his brain disconnected and vague.

“Is this …dealing with it?” Sirius said slowly. Remus shook his head.

“No.”

“Can we keep going anyway?”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He looked Remus in the eyes, chin obstinate under Remus’ palm, daring him to say otherwise.

“This is idiotic.” The werewolf laughed. Sirius put a hand at the base of his neck, pulled him down and kissed him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He laughed in the space between them, and they met again. Sirius dragged a firm hand under his shirt and up his spine, fingers pressing the spaces in between the vertebrae; those bones moved, twisted, when his other hand dipped below the waistband of Remus’ trousers and sat there, cautious; waiting. Remus did little; held his face, that same hand on his stomach. Waiting, too.

Being with Sirius, that first time, was a little like noise. Like waves; Sirius, that hand on his spine, the grip he kept, moving up and down, splaying across the bones of Remus’ back, mapping them out with the pad of each finger as he heaved himself up on the sofa, pushed Remus off it to stand, pushed himself to kneel, kept their faces connected, close. Looked anywhere but at his eyes; his lips, his nose, his scars. Sirius, letting Remus follow but not really, stepped off the sofa, standing now, against one another, bare feet on the cold carpet; Remus leaned down to kiss him, laughed at the difference between them and did not explain the joke.

Sirius, the noise, breathed heavy and ragged in the grey-blue air. Stumbled back, laughed, dug his hand in the front of Remus’ jeans and raised his eyes, finally. His mouth moved slightly, but nothing came out, like he was trying to tell a joke but couldn’t quite remember how it went. The whole moment felt like that; sort of muggy, sort of funny, but like it was not appropriate to laugh. Remus felt tall and watched him and lurched forward when Sirius touched him, then laughed as he grunted and undid the jeans, finally, with that same pensive, almost challenging stare. Remus’ hand at Sirius’ waist palmed him, gripped firmer, pressed him back and walked with him, head low, nudged him toward the wall but was really barely participating; was led, Sirius walking backwards. He stood against the wall, against Sirius, breathing heavy, hurried breaths against his neck as the other man, even now, still held a hand against his spine. Remus, hard now, feeling it now, feeling them both, obliged when Sirius pulled back and kissed his jawline with a scrape of teeth.

Sirius touched him in earnest; wrapped a hand around his cock and moved his hand, agonisingly slowly, just tipping them both as Remus felt waves and noise, noise Sirius was making; those tiny breaths, that hand that counted bones, still; _one, two, three, four._ Even drunk, he could feel the sweat on Sirius’ hands, the way his breath hitched when he touched Remus’ back. He could feel it as if he was not even present; as if this was something entirely different for the two of them, and his lurching was not his own; he was borne on a current, on Sirius’ hand, borne against the constant pressure on his spine. He smiled but Sirius couldn’t see him, face dug into Remus’ shoulder, shaking still, pushing them together as his hand moved, fast; guiding him to the edge and back, until Sirius was the first to go, biting back, kissing Remus’ shoulder and shaking as he came in his jeans (as if that alone was enough; for them to be close) and Remus went moments after, knees buckling, both hands at Sirius’ waist, rising and almost falling as he had been, keeping the grip on that waist, if only to anchor him to something. They leaned against eachother (or, Remus leaned on _him_ ), Remus’ forehead against the wall over Sirius’ shoulder, Sirius still breathing, still dryly pressing his mouth against Remus’ shoulder in silence.

Silence reigned.

After a quiet moment Remus was the first to pull away; he pulled his jeans back on; buttoned himself with still-shaking hands, blurred and drunk. Sirius’ warmth left him quickly and the cold spread thickly between them; Sirius leaned on the wall and looked up at him only slowly. Wordless, he reached for Remus again, stepped away from the wall and forwards, leaned up and kissed him briefly with a sticky, sweaty palm against Remus’ chest, warm even through his shirt. He stepped back again. He nodded, and smiled a tight, impenetrable smile, nodding, eyes on the floor. He used the door beside them to get into his bedroom; turned back only once before shutting it, to look at Remus, who stood, dishevelled and silent, in the living room. “’Night.” He half-whispered. Remus nodded.

“’Night.” He spoke too-loudly back. It sounded strange.

Sirius nodded, and closed the door behind him. Remus padded back into his room after a moment, dumbstruck. He stood in the middle of the room in the cold and then, slowly, with ritualistic slowness, heaved himself into bed and lay on his side, staring at his own clasped hands for what felt like hours. He felt Sirius’ hand burning on his back; _One, two, three, four._

XxX

The night of the full moon was always an irritable one.

Since leaving Hogwarts and moving from the Shrieking Shack back to his parent’s cellar, things had been more difficult. The other marauders could no longer join him, and instead Remus would turn up on his mother’s doorstep again, feeling fourteen, overnight bag in hand. He knocked and his mother appeared almost immediately; as usual, she’d been waiting.

She fell on him; she seemed tinier every time he saw her, but she gripped him around his shoulders and squeezed him tight. “You look thin.” She scolded, pulling back with a hand on each of his shoulders to look him up and down. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” He knew, already, that it was no use arguing.

“Nonsense.” She shook her head and her bobbed haircut moved with it. Delilah Lupin was many things; a gardener, a royalist, a fine cook; but a sufferer of fools, she was not. Trouble was, most of the time, Remus played the fool.

“Really, Mum. I’m fine.” He followed her inside the cottage and shut the door behind him. “Don’t go through any trouble.”

His mother collected things; it had never been a problem for them when he was little, but looking now, it made them look decidedly mad. Across the low mantelpiece, on every end-table (and there were several), even on the window-sills, sat thousands upon thousands of china King Charles Spaniels, staring balefully at him from their perches with their yellow, green and blue eyes. In hindsight, it was no wonder people neglected to visit; after his father died, his mother had just collected at an even more terrifying speed. The woman in question went into the kitchen without another word, was gone for all of two seconds, and then returned with what looked like a full roast. Remus groaned.

“Mum, I told you; I don’t need you to do this. I eat. I am well-fed.”

She did not look as if she believed him. “Hush, love. You know this is just my way. We’ll eat together.”

He sighed and pushed himself out of the soft chair with both hands, struggling to escape it. He followed his mother through to the dining table and sat across from her. She passed him his (humungous) share of the food. Reluctantly, he picked up the fork she pushed towards him, and started to eat.

It was sweet, really, but he never had much of an appetite for anything around the full moon. He hadn’t eaten at home, and wasn’t hungry. It was a mark of his love for his mother that he tried the roast, dripping with gravy, oozing with fat as it was. He pushed it around his plate, aware of her eyes on him.

“How’ve you been?”

He shrugged. “Fine. I like my job.” He rolled his shoulders non-committally. “Not much has changed since I last saw you.”

“How are Lily and James getting on, now they’re married? How is the other boy – the handsome one?”

“They’re fantastic. They had their honeymoon – and Lily’s pregnant, did I tell you? They think it’s a girl.”

She smiled, her face crinkling around her eyes. “Oh, that’s grand. That’s grand.” She looked at him. “And the handsome one?”

“Sirius is fine.”

“Not giving you trouble? Not making a mess?”

Remus laughed. “Not as such, no.”

His mother brightened considerably. “Well that’s good! You were worried about him last time I saw you. Have you settled in, now?”

“Mostly. We’re just getting used to eachother.”

She hummed, pleased. Then she leaned her head on her hands and looked at him gravely. “How’re you feeling, love? Alright for tonight?”

He shrugged. “As well as ever. Are we ready? I’ll go down and do the charms in a bit, before I start going – funny.”

She nodded. “Alright. Are you sure you’re all right, though? You haven’t touched your food.”

He smiled weakly. “I appreciate it, Mum. You know I do.”

“I know, sweetheart.” She stood and took his picked-at plate in one hand, pushed his hair back with the other and kissed his forehead. “Off, then. Go get it ready and we’ll watch Eastenders or something.”

He nodded. She left the room and he pushed himself out of his seat. He went over to where his bag stood by the door, unzipped it and took his wand from it. This was so familiar that he barely had to think about it; though it was still strange to take on his father’s mantle and put on the wards himself. As a boy he used to follow his father around when he did it, asking questions; generally being a nuisance; pulling at John Lupin’s trouser leg. Now the movements had a lonely, reverent sort of emphasis. He walked past the kitchen to the door that led to the cellar, unlocked the door with his wand, and entered.

He tripped down the stone steps, wincing at the cold. In winter, the place was an icebox, and even now it wasn’t wonderful. He stood in the middle of the room and started moving his hand, saying the words his father had always said, in the order he always said. Protection spells, sound-blocking spells, detection wards. On the bed, a heating charm that would last until morning; on the door, a ward that would help it withstand the wolf.

He was worried about what would happen tonight.

Finished, he pocketed his wand and wandered back upstairs, suddenly exhausted. He closed the door behind him so as not to let the cold in, went back to the living room, put the wand in his bag and settled himself on the sofa. As he curled in one corner, not twenty now but that boy who’d followed his father, he heard his mother coming downstairs from her bedroom; footsteps on the stairs; and then nothing, because he had fallen asleep.

XxX

“Remus.”

His eyes jolted open. He sat up on the sofa, fast. “Mum? Mum, what-?”

She ruffled the back of his head, hand in his hair. “Calm down, Remus. You just dozed, that’s all. It’s only ten.”

He breathed relief. “Okay. I’ll be off. Night, mum.”

“Night, sweetheart.” She hugged him around his neck, in her terrycloth robe and plaid pyjamas. She shuffled upstairs after that, and didn’t look back; Remus was glad. Doing this alone wasn’t good for anyone, let alone a fifty-year-old woman (and a non-magical one, at that). He roused himself on the sofa and all but dragged himself to the cellar – pulling the door shut behind him; locking it. He breathed in, hard, in the cool darkness.

He’d done this over a hundred and seventy times, now.

He’d never, ever get used to it.


End file.
